


Chocolate (Chaos) Kisses

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: Kisses [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: FA!Tony, Food Kink, FrostIron - Freeform, Junk Food - Freeform, M/M, Stuffed!Loki, Stuffing, Weight Gain, binge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony is a pushover with a one-track mind, and Loki makes what may or may not be a mistake. Also, junk food binge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate (Chaos) Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fanfic contains a very specific kink - namely food binging resulting in stuffing. 
> 
> If this isn't your thing, please don't read further. Essentially, don't like, don't read. Thanks!

Loki smirked around a spoonful of pistachio ice cream, listening idly to Stark’s ridiculous banter as he worked his way steadily through what would be his second tub of ice cream today. 

If anyone had asked Tony what he was thinking, letting a convicted (escaped) psychopathic god lounge on the sofa in his Stark Tower penthouse… Well, he wouldn’t have really had a decent answer. The trickster was fascinating, dynamic, and the closest thing that the billionaire had ever encountered to his equal in the art of sarcasm. 

It didn’t hurt that he was a phenomenal kisser. At the thought, Tony ran his tongue over his lips, which were pink and swollen from the aggressive way in which Loki had attacked his mouth, ravishing it with a talented tongue and teasing teeth. Yes, that had been all the convincing that Iron Man had needed to stand down, his mind clouded with desire. 

Now that phenomenal tease was on his leather sofa, eating ice cream from his fridge, under his roof, and still managing to act aloof. The trickster met the inventor’s stare with smouldering emerald eyes, an eyebrow raised as he took in the way that Tony was ravishing his thin form with a lustful gaze.

“God. Why’d you have to be the bad guy, again?” Stark muttered aloud.

A dark chuckle indicated that the mischief-maker had heard.  
“Because, Anthony, I –mmm – am a creature of superior intellect. I recognize the redundancy of the Midgardian race.” 

He was speaking with his mouth full, and a faint blush colored his cheeks when he realized that his moan had been audible. It wasn’t as though he could help it. This frozen treat was so incredible, so achingly frigid and sweet. Far different than Asgardian fare, and dare he say more appealing?

The genius grinned, more at the moan than at the biting response. Clearly, the god of mischief had one hell of a sweet tooth. Combine that with an appetite that could rival Thor’s, and you had Tony out a half-dozen chocolate doughnuts, a large bottle of soda pop and two tubs of ice cream.

“So, what are you doing here? Besides eating a week’s worth of junk food, that is.”

An impatient huff from the god, who still managed to look imposing, even clad in mortal garments.

“If you had been listening earlier, I clearly stated that I was only here due to a failure in my teleportation spell. I am drained of power, and am not about to risk recapture. Where better to rest than in the home of one of the heroes who supposedly defeated me? No-one would presume to search here.”

Ah. Must have missed that bit the first time.

“And how does that relate, exactly, to you pigging out like this?”

A wrinkle of confusion appeared on Loki’s forehead at the unfamiliar expression, but he seemed to grasp the general meaning.

“Magic regenerates more rapidly proportionate to the amount of energy taken in,” came the snippy response.

Tony nodded. It made sense, law of conservation of energy and all that jazz. Still, he was too distracted to really pursue the subject. Distracted by the firm curve of the trickster god’s stomach, which was filled with far too much sugary food. It was causing the grey T-shirt that he wore to ride up slightly, revealing an expanse of smooth pale flesh. The things that he would do to that flesh, the thought of his mouth pressing love bites onto Loki’s body, crescent-shaped bruises appearing on that unmarked canvas. 

A rush of heat to Tony’s groin brought his attention back to the present, where the emerald-eyed tease was wearing a thoroughly amused expression that suggested that he knew exactly what the billionaire was thinking.

Loki turned his attention back to the carton, scraping the last half-melted dregs of the dessert from the bottom. He savored the rich flavor on his tongue for a long moment, before swallowing greedily and tossing the empty container onto the rug to join the other carton and the pop bottle (the doughnut box was on the table next to the plush armchair that Tony occupied).

“More food, Anthony. Preferably sweets.”

The inventor bristled at the demanding tone, but moved to comply, swaggering over to the kitchenette. Rummaging around through the cabinets, he sighed. What would a megalomaniacal god enjoy? (And since when did he care about making Loki happy?)

Grumbling, he pulled out a box of chocolate-chip cookies - soft baked, thank you very much, none of that rock hard corner-store crap. A wry smile crossed his lips as he pitched the box in the general direction of the sofa. The smile became a smirk as he watched the cardboard container land squarely on that swollen stomach, eliciting a groan of discomfort.

“Getting full, Reindeer Games?”

“Nonsense,” Loki scoffed, opening the box. He was a god, and this pitiful amount of food should not have even fazed him. That he felt any sensation of fullness at all was very strange.

He fell upon the cookies with reckless abandon, an initial exploratory bite having proved them to be irresistibly delicious. The flavor of the chocolate and the sweet dough that accompanied it was exhilarating, and the treats were so malleable, so soft, that they seemed to melt on his tongue. It said something for how engrossed he was in this new Midgardian treat that he did not utter a word of protest when Tony flopped down on the sofa beside him, sitting ever so slightly too close.

He did protest, however, when the billionaire reached a hand into the box, snagging a cookie with calloused fingers – he slapped the offending hand aside almost playfully, with little effort, and muttered something in Norse. Tony suspected that it had been some hypocritical comment about greed.

It was only a scant few minutes before the god was tossing the box over his shoulder to join the others, prompting Iron Man to raise his eyebrows and give a low whistle, shocked and more than a little impressed. For such a skinny guy – god – to eat so much! He’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t an incredible turn-on.

The trickster groaned again, tilting his head back as one elegant hand came to rest on his stomach. It had expanded further, pushing out over the waistband of his slim-fitted jeans to jut out a few inches (which was impressive, but only because it was Loki, and seeing any belly at all on his too-thin frame was remarkable).

Tony tried to pretend as though the sight of this bulge didn’t bring a blush to his cheeks, seeing this adorable imperfection that humanized the otherwise flawless god.

“You will alleviate my discomfort, mortal,” the aloof mischief-maker commanded, gesturing lazily to his abdomen.

“Um…” The billionaire struggled to stem the flood of explicit and sensual thoughts.

“Massage it, you insufferable twit.” A dose of impatience this time.

Ah. Not quite what the inventor had had in mind, but titillating nonetheless. He laid a hand on that bulge, pushing the shirt up further in the process, and began to run his hand firmly over the distended flesh. It was firm beneath his hand, packed solid with tempting snacks.

Despite himself, Loki arched into the touch, temporarily overcome by the pleasurable sensation. Then, he snaked a hand over to the armrest, leaning across Tony’s muscular chest as he reached for the gold-foil-wrapped tin that lay there. The contact was electrifying, and he may have rested against the other man for just a few moments longer than was strictly necessary.

The billionaire resumed the massage, cheeks flushed from the unexpected contact, as the god settled back against the cushioned white leather. He was busily unwrapping the tin of chocolates; they had been a complimentary gift that Iron Man had received at some charity function or other.

Opening the round crimson tin impatiently, the trickster popped a chocolate into his mouth, sucking on it in an almost obscene manner. Almond cream filling, he noted, humming happily around the sweet.

Tony watched the continued gluttony with amusement, wondering how any more food could possibly fit into that stomach – It was already very full, and he was sure that it had to hurt like hell. Meanwhile, Loki was wondering much the same, confused as to why he could not consume nearly as much he normally could, and (more importantly) why he could not yet feel the sensation of his magic returning to him.

His mind whirred through the possible explanations as he chewed his way through chocolate after chocolate; truffles, liqueurs, cream filled, fruit filled, and even some featuring chopped nuts.

The realization came so suddenly that he actually gasped, white chocolate gem falling from his fingertips. It couldn’t be, but there was no other explanation. 

“Mortal,” Loki sighed hollowly, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“Hmm?” The inventor asked, certain that he had missed something in his blissful haze.

“Stark, you have just acquired a long-term houseguest. I expect accommodations befitting my status, as well as food and whatever resources that I deem necessary.”

“What?” Tony spluttered. “You, Mr. Number-one-most-wanted-escaped-villain, want me to put you up in my tower?” His tone clearly conveyed his shock.

“You say that as if you have a choice in the matter,” was the amused response.

The billionaire was about to utter some infuriated retort, but a pair of pale and perfect lips drove the response from his mind as they met his own lips with a passionate kiss. Loki nipped at the other man’s bottom lip, demanding entrance, and slipped his tongue into the mouth that opened eagerly in response. Battling Iron Man for dominance of the kiss, he pressed more firmly for a long moment before withdrawing, victorious, leaving a sharp nip on the inventor’s lower lip as they parted. The kiss had tasted of chocolate, blood, and steel, intoxicating to the last second.

Tony whimpered faintly, thoroughly convinced. “I’ll have that arranged, gorgeous.”

The god pretended to be affronted by that nickname, but his smug expression betrayed him. Rearranging his body on the couch, he now lay with his head in the other man’s lap, the tin of chocolates on his chest, long legs occupying the remainder of the sofa.

“Now, Anthony. Feed me.”

And Tony did feed the trickster, stuffing him with chocolate until Loki was positively moaning with pleasurable agony, dozens of perfect sweets melting in that hot, eager mouth.

The god of mischief would regret this indulgence (and the others that followed) in the long term, when the jeans became too tight and a bulge of fat manifested on that flat stomach. Now, however, it was bliss, alternating delectable chocolate and passionate kisses as the evening faded into night.

For the first time in recent memory, Loki dined like the god that he was, and Tony Stark came to realize that having a sexy, hungry trickster in his tower would be either the best or worst idea that he had ever agreed to. He was hoping for the former.

Chocolate, Loki, and (hopefully) sex. Yeah, this was beyond awesome. 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a birthday present for my darling friend Ellie. Happy Birthday, doll!  
> I couldn't give you Loki in a box, so I gave you your favorite kink.
> 
> This is way outside my style, and my comfort zone, but I'd do anything for you.


End file.
